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A year is a long time. It’s a longer time when you try to do something–and stick to it–for all 52 weeks. It’s an even longer time when you try to make this “something” a routine, especially when it’s something that’s not necessarily “fun” or “easy.”

Okay. So let’s say you bought a house, or signed a lease for a new apartment. Or maybe you’re just over it with your Craigslist–or college–furniture and are thinking that it’s finally time you sold it all (or burned it) and moved on. I found myself in one of these situations a few months ago

I was listening to a podcast on my way to work this morning (Reply All, if you wanted to know), and the storyline focused around this man who–for the sheer enjoyment of it–has spent every Sunday evening for the past 9 years fixing grammatical errors on Wikipedia.

Recently, I moved into a small-ish studio in west LA. And, to top it all off, I took the plunge and moved into a studio with another human being–my boyfriend. At first, you probably wouldn’t dare consider moving with someone else into a space with nowhere to hide.

We live in a social media-driven, impatient, insatiable age where the hunger to constantly be experiencing and sharing things is as much of a common denominator as it is a burden. Really though, I think that everyone in their 20s right now feels a similar insatiable hunger. A desire–a need–to go out and do everything, be everywhere, and try new things constantly.

2016 was rough, wasn’t it? I didn’t really feel compelled to dwell on shortfalls and negatives from this past year. In fact, in my own personal bubble I call life, 2016 was a damn good year. But, everywhere on social media, there it was.

I love this time of year. I love how lively everyone gets, and how everyone seems to move with more purpose, hurrying to get all of the last-minute errands done before the year is up. But it’s so easy to get caught up in the chaos.